Someday
by thisislandgirl
Summary: Post 'Grave Danger'. A year after Gil loses everything, he reflects and makes a very important decision about his future. WARNING: character death


**Someday**

**Characters: **Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes, brief mention of Greg Sanders, Sara Sidle, Warrick Brown, Catherine Willows, and Jim Brass

**Rating: PG**

**Warnings:** Post 'Grave Danger', AU, Character Death

**Summary: **After losing the love of his life, Gil reflects and makes a decision about the future. Gil POV. One-Shot.

Warm Texas sun beating down can't chase away this biting cold. Its buried deep within my bones, an ever present ache that's been there since I last saw your face. Fingers trace letters etched in granite. I wipe away a tear as I caress your name. I love you.

Its been a year already and there's so many things I need to tell you, but where does a broken heart begin to mend? Should I start at the beginning, when you first slipped through my fingers? Or do I start with the now? There are too many warring emotions, love, anger, denial, despair, maybe even a little hope. Yes, hope. The hope that one day I'll wake and this will all be a nightmare; that you'll be by my side to kiss away the tears.

Everyone accused me of being a robot, unfeeling, but you alone knew the real truth, at least until the end. You alone knew how human I really was, how much I truly did feel, how compassionate I could be when I let my guard down. It was you the breached the wall, but you already know that. It wasn't until Catherine and I knelt down by your discarded vest that those around us knew exactly how many emotions I was capable of expressing.

_Gloved fingers traced over white block letters, an involuntary action to bring comfort. 'Where are you, Nicky?'_

I swear I did everything to keep you safe. I've never worked so hard to solve a case as I did that night. And my heart broke when I saw you on that screen, face full of panic and fear as you battled against that which held you captive. I broke the promise I made to you in that moment and put on an unfeeling face, but I was too slow. They all saw the tears that slipped passed the mightiest defenses.

You cried out in despair, fists pounding away at the inside of the box, tear spilling out of your eyes, and one name slipping passed you lips in a cry of desperation. I couldn't imagine what you thought, what you felt in those long hours. I just know my own pain, and the pain of everyone else that I seemed to soak up like a sponge. They weren't ignorant to my feelings, just unsure of how to react to the new turf we found ourselves on. But you kept us together. You kept us sane, kept us motivated. If there was a way to get to you, we'd find it.

And how clearly I recall reading your lips as you sang to yourself, trying to keep your mind off dark thoughts, when you spoke to the tape recorder. It wasn't until a few days after that we all had the nerve to sit and listen. We knew those thoughts were private and should have been laid to rest with you, but we were desperate to have that one last piece of you with us. And we were like family anyway; whatever was exposed no longer mattered.

Unbearable static and a few ragged breaths before your voice came over, haggard and raw with emotions. _'My name is Nick Stokes. If anyone finds this tape, turn it into the Las Vegas PD. There should be a reward.'_ Another ragged breath like a diver before the final plunge and when your voice came back, it was laced with barely held back tears. _'Mom . . . Cisco, well this is a lousy way to say good-bye, but its all I've got. You raised me right. I love you. And know . . . I don't have any regrets, about anything.'_

_'Warrick, bro . . .'_ a strangled, choked off laugh._ 'Man have we had some good times, the best. You've always been my best friend. Take care of yourself and don't . . . don't fall back in, okay? You're stronger than that and everyone's gonna need you in the end. I know you hate good-byes so . . . I'll catch ya later man.'_

_'Cath.'_ Another strangled laugh._ 'I know what you're thinking but don't. I'm a grown man. Sure, you like to look out for your favorite men, but someone else needs you now.'_ You hesitate, like you're struggling with what to say, but when your voice comes back, its strong and sure. _'Take care of everyone but don't forget yourself.'_

_'Sara, keep smiling for me. Ask the guys for dating advice and . . . make sure I'm not wearing an ugly shirt at my funeral.'_ The laugh is permeated with a soft sob, a last attempt at humor in a dismal hour._ 'Greggo, hang tough. And don't change for anyone. I love you guys. All of you. And I know you did your best, it wasn't your fault. I guess I just pushed a little too far this time, huh?'_

The pause was long and heart wrenching. I remembered all the tears and sobs as we sat in the locked room, blinds drawn, listening to a ghost's voice. For a moment, we thought that was the end of it, thought that you had forgotten me. But I could hear the soft sobs as you struggled to rein them in. And I remembered watching your face on the monitor days before. The way you dropped the recorder to your chest and threw an arm over your eyes as you fought for composure. When you pulled your arm away, I saw the tears and knew. You'd never forget me. You never had and you wouldn't even in your last hour.

_'Grissom. Gil. Love.'_ Three words and the damns flooded their gates. _'Don't retreat, don't fall away, don't change. I worked so hard to get you back, the Gil Grissom that had a heart, the Gil Grissom that loved and laughed freely. I'll miss you, terribly. But you know that. You know because I call you during shift, because I can't sleep one night without you, because you're my last thought.'_ I never felt the hands and arms that wrapped around me as you spoke. I was unfeeling, numb to the world, to everyone and everything except your voice and the memory I had of you speaking into that damned recorder.

'_I know you. I know you'll try to retreat back into your shell. You may even try to leave Vegas, but I won't let you. I'll haunt you if I have to._' Your laugh startled me but you know your spirit is welcomed anytime._ 'You get a year and a day. To grieve. To be so pissed off you destroy a room. To shut yourself away from the world. To get over it. And then you get back on the horse and ride on. Promise me, promise me.'_

"I promise, Nicky. I promise."

_'I love you. I wish you were here, with me. But that's selfish. I don't want you to remember me like this, scared and weak and begging. I want you to be spared from all of this pain. But since life isn't fair, I'll go through this with just your memory. But know that I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Goodbye, Gil.'_

The definitive click of the tape shutting off may as well have been a point blank gunshot. I probably wouldn't have hurt so bad. It was only then that I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks and the hands of friends—no, of family—patting my shoulder, holding my hand, rubbing my leg, caressing my neck, wiping my tears. But I couldn't speak to them. I couldn't confess my undying love and adoration for you, couldn't thank or reassure them, I couldn't move.

After watching you on the monitor, we got our break. The next thing I knew, I was standing in a three foot hole, shoveling dirt like my life depended on it. In hindsight, I guess it did. Warrick was right by my side, digging like the devil was after him. The flash of lights bounced around in the empty desert night. Cops and co-workers lining the hole, urging us on silently.

_Thunk._

My eyes swiveled to meet Warrick's as I once again hit my shovel against something decidedly solid. Cries filled the air, people begging you to hang on for just another minute. Warrick's watch, your lifeline alarm, had gone off a few minutes previous. We were walking a fine line. We ditched our shovels and I frantically pushed the dirt away with my hands, revealing plexiglass and Nick as I went.

Only you weren't smiling up at me as I had imagined. You weren't crying in relief. Your body was twitching, your mouth gaping open and closed like a fish trying to drag in oxygen. I called out to you, begged you to hold on. We were so close! But your eyelids slid down and your chest hitched one last time as it tried to draw in oxygen. Then it stilled.

I screamed. And brushed away the dirt frantically. My eyes never leaving your slack face and half-lidded eyes. When we finally cleared the lid, I hauled it open, and heedless of the fire ants still feasting on your flesh, I jumped in with you. They yelled to me about explosives but I'd take my chances. I'd rather be dead and with you than alive without you. So, I pulled the fabric out of your nose and felt for a pulse, praying to find some sign of life. I vaguely recall pumping your chest and breathing life through your lips, the scream of a siren as the ambulance headed towards our position, the shrill cries of Catherine and Sara as they realized . . . you were dead.

It took Brass, Warrick, Greg, Catherine, and Sara to pull me off you and out of the box to let the paramedics work. But even from the very beginning it was painfully obvious; you were gone. So when the line on the defibrillator stayed flat after five shocks and countless drugs, I just crawled over to your limp body and pulled you close. Your head pillowed on my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around you as I pulled you in my lap. And I wouldn't let go.

I don't remember the coroner's van leaving with you, or the arrival of dayshift, or the sun rising. Shock they said. And that's probably why the next thing I remember is a hospital room, bandages covering cut up hands, antihistamine cream slathered on the worst of the ant bites. They were all there. Cath, Rick, Greg, Sara, Jim. They had been and didn't look like they were about to move.

Your parents were at the lab when I got back. I couldn't say anything to them either, it seemed. Your mother looked at me with a mixture of sympathy and regret, a look only the mother of your dead lover could pull off when you are in your worst hour. I just kept walking and locked myself in my office, staring at your picture on my desk.

One sound I'll never forget is the squelch of hundreds of dress shoes marching down the street in what had to be Vegas's largest funeral procession. It seemed that most of LVPD's officers had come to say good-bye to you. And those that couldn't because of duty, drove by with their lights on in last respects. I'll never forget the sheer number of people that followed your casket to the airport and watched as you were loaded on a plane to finally go home.

And it seemed that just as many Texas cops met you at the airport and carried you to your final resting place. It was beautiful really. Poetic. You had once said to me that even though you'd never live in Texas again, you had strong roots there. Now those roots accept you back.

I left the lab the day after we came back from your funeral. I never spoke to anyone, never told them my plans. Just packed my stuff up in a box and left a note on my empty desk. You gave me a year and a day and I was gonna take it. I did take it. I traveled. I went back home and lurked around in a sort of half-life. Not really living yet too alive to be dead. I went through everyone possible emotion, drank you away, punched a wall until I was so exhausted I collapsed, cried myself to sleep, memorized every picture and relived every memory. I even listened to that tape daily, just to hear your voice and hear that you loved me. And that's when I came to the bitter truth. I was built to love one, wholly and completely. That was you. There cannot and shall not be another.

Its been a year. And though your memory is as fresh in my mind as if it had only been a day, I need to keep my promise. I won't let you down.

"Goodbye, Nicky."

_fin_


End file.
